author's note: inspired by this art by pprin_pa : imgur /Uki8a7m
sorry if the ending seems sloppy, I was rushed to finish this; it's also a little sappy, but hope you enjoy!
Draven sat on his bed, face resting in his palm, thinking.
Rain pounded against his window, clouding the only light entering the room with a misty, melancholy blue, but this didn't distract the marksman from the thoughts of her that seemed to creep up on him on days like this.
She was, to put it bluntly, the most selfless being Draven had ever encountered. The kindest woman in the world, in fact, and the reality of her very existence mystified Draven.
Draven had been summoned a lot recently with the being known as Soraka. She was, as far as he could tell, a big fan of his; I mean, who wasn't? And so Draven had taken a particular liking to Soraka, who would always smile warmly at him with every creep he killed, every kill he secured, and had recently even started holding his hand until respawn upon every death.
Draven started disliking death a little bit less because of that.
Feeling a little hungry and also a little more enthusiastic than he usually would be on such a day, the marksman decided to visit the Institute of War's well equipped food court during the harrowing storm outside.
He had every intention of hitting up the bagel shop until he saw a familiar purple-skinned sylph taking orders at the Fallen Angel Bakery; carefully slicking back his hair and checking his grin in the mirror he always kept on his person, he hastily made his way over to check out the (baked) goods.
Soraka's eyes lit up when she locked eyes with Draven as he approached the counter; for the first time in his life, he caught himself somewhat shyly turning away from her honey-colored orbs.
"Draven! I'm so glad I got to see you today," she exclaimed sweetly, smiling softly while extending a petite hand out to him. "You coming here has definitely made the rain a little more bearable."
She giggled while saying this. Draven felt his heart literally skip a beat as it sped up, and he hoped the sudden rush of blood wasn't noticeable on his face. Her giggle was intoxicating.
Gathering his cool, the brunet man rested an arm on the counter, very delicately taking her smaller hand in his and flashing her a smirk back in the process.
"Draven would never let his support hang out all alone during a storm," he replied awkwardly, not at all wanting to let go of that tiny, smooth hand he currently held.
Soraka stuck her tongue out at him, still grinning. Draven held his breath.
"I'm not a support today, Draven. I'm a volunteer!" she said, motioning to the display of muffins and cakes sitting prettily behind the glass counter. "And with the help of Pantheon and Morgana, also a baker."
"You made these?" the marksman asked in wonder, now suddenly wanting to buy one of those decadent looking cakes.
"Some of them," Soraka replied. She looked down for a second, absent-mindedly, then glanced back at the clock. "I've been here for quite a while. I'll probably be going back to my place after I convince you to buy something."
She smiled at him again, this time cheekily. She squeezed Draven's hand in her own before slowly withdrawing it and placing it on the counter, antsily drumming her fingers on the glass surface. She seemed like she wanted something.
Damn, was she cute, Draven couldn't help but find himself thinking. And that little hand… it was so warm, and felt so right in his own. He wanted to hold it again.
Soraka looked at him with hope in her eyes; Draven gulped, unsure of if she was really hinting at what she was hinting at.
But in the words of his brother, the marksman decided to never retreat.
"I might be more inclined to buy something if there was a reward involved," he replied, barely even believing the words currently leaving his mouth. Soraka visibly flushed a slightly darker purple hue at his statement.
"W-Well," she stammered, her voice somewhat breathy and her fingers ceasing their tapping, "You did say you wouldn't let me spend the storm alone."
She locked eyes with him once again, this time with an almost desperate glance. Draven knew at this point exactly how she wanted him to proceed.
"I'd very much like to come back to your place with you," Draven uttered quietly, daring himself to grab that slender hand of hers again. "If, of course, it would make the storm more bearable for you."
Soraka then stood up on her tiptoes and leaned over the counter, her lips fluttering by Draven's ear as she whispered one very arousing line to him.
"There's something much more wet and much less bearable than the storm that you could help me with."
She immediately turned her back to him, but Draven caught a glimpse of her blush before she did; he was in a similar predicament, only the blood was not rushing to just his face this time.
"Do… do you want to go now?" the brunet asked, hoping his voice sounded more confident than the words felt.
She simply nodded quickly, grabbing his hand and throwing her apron on the counter, then pulling him through the food court and back to where the champion apartments resided.
Soraka's room was quite similar to herself, Draven noted; it was lavender with a cream colored carpet, and overall very tidy and cute.
The marksman only had his attention on her lithe figure and the generously sized bed in the middle of the room, however, and found it near impossible to avert his gaze.
Soraka locked eyes with him a third time, biting her lip and sitting down on the edge of the bed, her legs awkwardly pressed together.
"Come here," she requested softly, extending her hand; Draven would definitely not miss this opportunity to grab it again.
There was a somewhat long silence as the two sat next to each other, thigh to thigh, Draven gently stroking Soraka's hand in his own.
"How long," he started, breaking the pause, "would you have been okay with me coming here?"
Soraka shifted nervously.
"A few weeks," she admitted, her other hand fiddling idly with the hem of her dress. "Maybe a month. Maybe two. I never thought you were interested."
Draven took a deep breath at this statement.
"Draven's always interested in a kind, beautiful woman," he whispered to her, grabbing the hand that was touching her dress; Soraka gasped quietly at the proximity of his hand to her leg.
"Do your fans know how sweet you actually are?" she said, her voice taking that breathy tone again, as she leaned in closer to him.
"Only the fan that matters does," he replied before leaning in in return; she took the initiative and pressed her supple lips to his, initiating their first kiss.
Soraka's lips were soft and extremely sensitive, Draven learned, as she squirmed beside him while he pressed his mouth against hers with more intensity each passing second; her free hand lightly rested on his chest, and clenched into a small fist involuntarily as he venturously slid his tongue along her bottom lip.
When the support gave a small gasp at this action, Draven took this opportunity to full on slip his tongue into her wet, warm mouth; the brunet man couldn't believe how incredibly good it felt to kiss her and was just now realizing how long he had wanted it.
Soraka made the most inaudible, breathy little moan as their tongues continued to explore each other's mouths, and her hand snaked over to Draven's and grasped it tenderly.
Slowly, amatively, Soraka broke the kiss and led his hand to her right breast; she locked eyes with the marksman, her face clearly conveying what she wanted.
With glassy, half-lidded eyes and an alluring flush adorning her cheeks, Soraka simply said, "Touch me."
This was all the instruction Draven needed.
With an almost desperate eagerness, he shifted himself so that Soraka was now in his lap rather than by his side, her curves pleasantly pressing against him between his legs in all the right places.
Soraka didn't say a word; she was beyond turned on right now and she knew it was only a matter of time before Draven found out just how wet she was from thinking about what he was going to do to her.
Wordlessly, Draven slipped the top of the purple-skinned woman's dress down over her breasts; he thought he had seen the outline of her nipples through her clothing earlier, but it was now abundantly clear that Soraka's nipples were quite erect.
Soraka gasped again, less quietly this time, as Draven's hands reached around from behind her and began to gently massage her; her breathing grew more and more ragged until, finally, a pair of dexterous fingers somewhat roughly pinched the swollen peak of her left breast, earning an outright moan from the woman.
"Does it feel good?" Draven whispered against the support's ear, causing goosebumps to raise along her skin, his hands both pinching and tugging erotically at Soraka's nipples now.
"It feels ama- ah!" Soraka exclaimed as the marksman's ministrations became faster, whimpering quietly as the brunet placed a delicate kiss to the back of her neck by her ear.
One of Draven's hands left Soraka's breasts and moved downward, pulling up her dress to reveal petal pink panties.
Soraka's breath hitched in her throat as Draven lightly pressed two fingers against her soft flesh through the fabric; she leaned back against him, trusting him to support her full weight, and spread her legs just ever so obviously to give him more room to work with.
Draven was positive the silver-haired woman could feel his own erection pressing up against her now with her back flush against his chest; curious as to just how wet Soraka really was, he finally slipped his hand under the waistline of her silky panties, gently sliding his fingers down her slit.
Soraka was, to put it mildly, soft and slippery and drenched beyond all belief.
Paired with this, she was also sighing erotically, her eyelids fluttering as Draven explored her, his fingers eventually coming across the desperately swollen bud of her clitoris.
"Tell me where you like it," Draven breathed in her ear again, his fingers skillfully rubbing and encircling her sensitive clit.
Soraka could barely speak, but managed to reply with, "Right there," as Draven's touch grew rougher and harder, along with Draven himself.
"You have to tell me exactly where or I won't know," the marksman teased, his voice husky and low, such a contrast to Soraka's high-pitched breathy one.
"Keep touching my clit," the purple-skinned support whispered, her eyes fixated needily on the sight of Draven's hands under her panties.
"Take these off," Draven instructed, pulling his hand away and tugging at the elastic of her underwear, "and I might think about it."
Quickly and wordlessly, Soraka slipped off her panties before leaning back against Draven, her legs awkwardly squeezed together.
"Spread your legs for me," Draven whispered amatively, placing his hand on her inner thigh.
Embarrassed but too aroused to think twice, Soraka did as told and opened her legs even wider than before, revealing her most intimate place to the marksman' curious eyes.
Soraka's pussy looked even smoother and softer than it felt, and her plump lips glistened with the moisture of her own arousal.
Extremely turned on that Soraka had done what he had asked without question, he pressed his fingers against her clit once again, pleasantly surprised that she seemed even wetter than she had before.
The two sat in silence, save for the heavy breathing that resonated throughout the room, and Soraka's frantic sighs and whimpers that she emitted every few seconds.
Draven could feel her clit beginning to throb beneath his fingers as he rubbed as quickly and deftly as he could; with a delicate cry, Soraka came against his hand, her clit twitching and her chest heaving, her face flushed with arousal.
"Was it good?" Draven asked while wearing a smirk to hide the actual anxiety behind the question; Soraka simply nodded, leaning back to press a chaste kiss to the marksman's cheek this time.
"The best," she replied in a satisfied voice, giving the brunet a warm smile. Draven's smirk faded to a frown.
"The best? That simply won't do," he began slyly, gently pushing Soraka off of him as he stood up and resumed his spot on the bed before her. "Draven can always do better."
The purple-skinned girl looked at the man before her in confusion.
"What are you trying to- ah!" she exclaimed, interrupted mid-question as the marksman firmly grasped her hips and pulled her onto her back, his head between her legs.
"Draven, this is embarrassing," Soraka whined, squeezing her legs shut, but finding it increasingly more difficult to keep them together as the ADC placed a sloppy kiss to her upper thigh.
"Just trust me," Draven replied, placing his hands on both of her knees and spreading her legs apart, revealing all of her to him.
Soraka's flush now covered almost all of her body, tinting her with a pinkish, slightly darker mauve coloring. Draven was staring so intimately at her pussy, and the sight and feeling of it turned her on so badly that she couldn't even believe it.
The marksman also was having trouble believing he was actually face to face with Soraka's slit; mesmerized, he drew closer to it, his breath lingering on her smooth skin, causing goosebumps to form on Soraka's legs.
Draven placed a chaste kiss on the support's inner thigh and then on her mound, earning a surprised whimper from Soraka as he did so; seeing her embarrassed like this turned the brunet on immensely. His fingers idly ghosted over the outline of her slit, and he realized he wanted to see if he could embarrass her a little bit more.
Drawing his face closer to her most private place once again, he placed a thumb on either one of her pussy's soft lips and amatively spread her open, revealing the soft, wet pink interior to his prying eyes.
"You weren't lying about what you said in the food court," Draven noted with a grin, amazed and at the same extremely aroused by just how wet Soraka actually was; she was beginning to leak down onto the sheets beneath her, and looked more than ready to have him inside of her.
Fortunately for her, though, he wasn't quite done with teasing her yet.
Soraka's breathing grew ragged and hitched with small sighs as he pulled back the small hood over her clit, revealing the throbbing little nub; experimentally, he pressed his tongue to it and gently licked, which earned an outright moan from his fellow champion.
Wordlessly, Draven slowly and amatively began to lick Soraka's clit, his thumbs still spreading her open to him; she involuntarily bucked her hips against his mouth, wanting more contact.
The marksman circled with his tongue teasingly before he pressed his lips against her clit and gently sucked, Soraka's moans and jerks of her hips growing more and more frantic.
The markman couldn't help but steal a glance at Soraka's pretty face now wearing such an erotic expression as he buried his face in her pussy; she was so wet and incredibly soft, and he couldn't wait to feel her insides pulsing around him once he was through with her.
One of Draven's fingers came to join him as it slipped into her entrance, gently thrusting in and out of her as he continued his ministrations on her sweet spot, his tongue gently yet firmly flicking her bud with a much wanted roughness.
Soraka wore a desperate expression, her eyes half-lidded with lust and her chest heaving with every quivering breath she drew in.
Draven paused his foreplay for a bit and said in a sly voice, "You look like you want something, Soraka."
The purple-skinned woman hesitated, biting that plump bottom lip of hers.
Draven slowed his actions, making his support whine from loss of contact; he wanted her to tell him exactly what it was she wanted him to do to her.
Wiggling her hips and averting her eyes, Soraka whispered something that was barely audible.
Draven's grip on Soraka's plump hips tightened, causing a shudder to run down her spine. She was so desperate to come she could hardly stand it, bucking her hips and raising her pelvis forward, trying to get more of her swollen clit into the marksman's mouth.
"What was that? It's hard to know what to do when I can't hear you," the brunet man continued, his hands roughly massaging her hips as he stared hungrily into her eyes, pleading her to beg him.
Soraka couldn't take it anymore.
"I want you to s-suck on my clit," she replied in a breathy voice, spreading her legs open even wider, bringing her hands down to her pussy and spreading her lips open herself, revealing the lewd wet pinkness of the inside.
Her clit throbbed shyly at Draven, and Soraka gulped, adding, "As hard as you can."
Cracking a smile, Draven pressed his lips to the swollen bud and sucked as hard as he could, his actions followed almost immediately by Soraka's desperate little whimpers.
She came not only ten seconds after that, her clitoris pulsing in his mouth and her entrance clenching around his finger; Draven sat back and observed Soraka's spent form, satisfied with his work.
The purple-skinned woman, after taking a few seconds to recover from the intensity of her climax, noticed the glaring bulge in Draven's pants, straining needily against the fabric.
Licking her lips, she crawled on all fours over to the marksman and gently pressed her petite hand against the bulge, causing Draven's breath the hitch in his throat.
"I think it's your turn," Soraka purred, somewhat clumsily undoing Draven's belt buckle and blue jean zipper; she pulled them down to reveal black boxer briefs, which even more clearly showed the outline of Draven's cock straining to be set free.
Soraka, her face once again tinted with blush, gently pressed a finger to the tip of the bulge, where a dark wet circle was quickly forming.
"Soraka, please," Draven pleaded, desire clearly written on his face as she circled the outline of his bulge with her finger, teasing him as he did to her. "I want you so bad."
Finally complying, Soraka hooked her thumbs in either side of the boxer's waistband and raked them down over Draven's hips, until finally his erection sprang free from the fabric.
Soraka discarded his boxers to the side and stared, the most turned on she'd ever been in her life, at Draven's hard-on; it was thick and dark and pre-cum leaked erotically from the tip, and she couldn't help but lean in and wrap her soft lips around the head.
Draven immediately gave a small gasp, beyond amazed at how amazing just the inside of the support's mouth felt wrapped around his cock.
She slowly took him in all the way to the back of her throat and moved back and forth, sucking him off at a gentle, tantalizing rhythm.
Draven's breathing grew more and more ragged and Soraka's head bobbed back and forth at a faster rate with every movement; she could feel his member tense inside her mouth and, just like that, he came inside of her mouth while she continued to go down on him, his voice involuntarily making whimpers of his own.
Soraka amatively stared Draven directly in the eyes with a sultry, lewd look as she swallowed his cum, and she sat back, licking her lips and wiggling her hips once again, pleasantly surprised at how Draven's erection was even harder than before.
"You enjoy?" she asked shyly, leaning back once again onto her pillow, her knees pressed against one another.
"I think I'll enjoy this much more," Draven said in a throaty voice, immensely turned on by the site of Soraka swallowing all he had to give to her; he gently spread apart her legs, gladly noticing she was just as wet as earlier.
Soraka's heartbeat fluttered as the marksman pressed the shaft of his member against her pussy, oh-so gently rubbing against her. She knew what was coming next.
"Are you ready for this?" he asked, concern in his eyes; Soraka nodded, wrapping her arms around Draven's neck and pulling him in, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek.
"More than ready," she purred, wiggling her hips against him yet again. "Now, put it in me before I go crazy."
In complete agreement with that statement, Draven gently pressed the head of his cock against her opening and slowly pushed in, earning a gasp from the silver-haired support.
Draven inched himself inside of Soraka little by little until he was buried entirely within her; the inside of her was incredibly tight and warm, and he felt like he was going to melt with pleasure.
"Move," Soraka pleaded in a strained voice, her legs trembling beside Draven's hips; more than eager to, he experimentally thrusted out and then back into her, earning a moan from his partner.
Draven picked up the pace, pumping in and out of Soraka harder with every thrust; he watched, mesmerized, as she stared at him with the most erotic look he had ever seen, her bare, smooth breasts bouncing with every thrust in.
He was pounding her at this rate, his thoughts full of nothing but her and how amazing her insides felt clenching and coiling around his cock; he was close, and her moans and gaze directly into his eyes told him that she was, too.
He could clearly see the shaft of his member pumping in and out of her slick opening, and finally, with one last, languid thrust, Draven came inside of Soraka, feeling her walls instinctively gripping him.
Soraka's breathing was ragged and she seemed in a daze as the marksman pulled her in for a kiss, sloppily pressing his lips against hers in his post-orgasm euphoria.
The silver-haired woman smiled warmly at him and cuddled up to his side, wrapping her slender arms around his torso and once again entwining her small hand in his own.
"You really can do it all," she remarked with a sly grin, squeezing her grip on his hand. Draven smirked back.
"All I wanna do was you, and I did," Draven replied cheekily, pulling the lavender bedspread folded beside him over the two.
Soraka simply nodded in content, turning off the light on her night table and rendering the two in pleasant darkness.
Draven smiled cockily, feeling Soraka's breaths growing slower and heavier; he was pretty sure she was asleep.
"Heh," he thought, admiring the curve of her butt through the blanket. "Doesn't get better than this."